


How Did We Get Here?

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Touchy-Feely, Sometimes Silly, BDSM Stuff [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom John, Dom/sub, Dominance, M/M, Paddling, Punishment, Sub Sherlock, Submission, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5164643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started off as D/s porn, but feels crept in... all over the place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Did We Get Here?

How Did We Get Here?

 

When John grabbed Sherlock by the hair and pulled him off the sofa, the detective felt a little frisson of arousal. He quickly lurched from his Mind Palace, trying to deduce whether John was friend or foe; friend would mean fun, foe would mean punishment.

John bent low and hissed in his ear, “And how is my little slut?”

“However you want me to be, sir.” He could feel the heat of the older man's breath on his ear and poked his tongue out slightly.

John grinned wickedly, putting on his most feral expression and licking a stripe along the detective's neck. Sherlock moaned beneath him and brought his hands up to grab the older man's neck. He chuckled as the Dom's legs gave way and he landed atop of him, their lips meeting in the middle. The doctor quickly took command of the kiss, pressing their lips bruisingly together and thrusting his tongue deeply into his sub's mouth.

Sherlock could tell the doctor hadn't been impressed with his 'topping from the bottom' routine and knew he might be in for it now; submitting to the kiss, but prepared for anything. As John's fingers wrapped around his submissive's neck, Sherlock tried to gasp, but his Dom hadn't broken off the kiss and he couldn't get enough air. The detective realised he'd been right about irritating the doctor and the second John pulled back he gasped in a big lungful of air and stuttered, “I- I'm sorry, Sir.” At the resulting look on his Dom's face, he bit his lip to keep from smiling. He could tell he was in for a bit of rough and didn’t want to spoil the mood.

John stood up with his hand in Sherlock's hair. The result: he was pulled forward on to his knees, but John didn't let him go until he was bowing his head as submissively as he could. Which way to take this, the Dom wondered: punishment, pleasure, or a darker game?

Staring at the floor, the only thing racing through his mind was what John was going to do to him. The initial term 'slut' suggested he'd been bad and he had pulled his Dom to the floor, but he had no idea what he'd done wrong; maybe John was just teasing. He did that, occasionally, when he was after something darker, something that would irrevocably push his limits, but not cross them.

John pondered Sherlock's tatty old T-shirt -it would be no loss- and dressing gown and came to a swift conclusion. He pulled the dressing gown down his sub's shoulders, off over his arms, then he gripped the collar of the T-shirt and ripped. Sherlock swallowed, hard, but daren't look the Dom in the eye. Instead, he offered his compliance as the T-shirt was removed completely and launched in the generally direction of the bin. The feel of John's hands running over his chest caused him to shiver and close his eyes. With his eyes shut he missed John's evil grin and he missed one hand reaching for something, distracted by the doctor’s teeth around his nipple. He felt the press of fingers at the hinge point of his jaw, forcing his mouth open, and a ring gag was slid into place. Diversionary tactics, he should have known, John was a master at it now; knew just how to play him. He would have congratulated the older man if it wasn't for the now tightly buckled gag in place.

John quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “Did you want to say something, slut?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath in response. Despite being able to read people like a book, he did not expect the slap that came, so when he found himself horizontal it was a complete surprise. His cock hardened further at the sting on his cheek, tenting his pyjama bottoms obscenely.

John crouched down in front of him and grabbed a fist full of curls in one hand and his bollocks in the other. He gave a firm squeeze, then rolled his sub's balls between his fingers, watching as Sherlock gave a little shiver. The hand in his hair tightened and he was pulled upright on his knees. He watched John's hand disappear again and prepared himself for whatever was to come. His Dom simply tugged down his pyjama bottoms. Since Sherlock wasn't wearing pants, his cock bobbed in the air, fully exposed. John must have let go of him at some point, because a fresh tug strained his neck to the extreme. The disappearing hand reappeared and snapped a cock ring around the base of his cock.

“Now, slut,” John barked, “finish getting those off,” the Dom tugged at his pyjama bottoms, “then you can undress me.”

Sherlock would have answered, but from experience the gag did an impressive job of making everything sound like a punishable offence. Instead, he nodded jerkily and stepped out of his pyjamas, returning to his knees when he was done.

John tweaked his nipple, giving it a harsh twist. “Is that all?” he asked.

Sherlock's eyes widened. Stupid, stupid! He jerked forward and began unbuttoning his Dom's shirt.

“Seeing as you can't really understand basic instructions, why don't we practice?” The look on John's face suggested he was in trouble now. “Hands behind your back,” the Dom ordered. “Grab your left wrist with your right hand. I want your forehead to the floor and your lovely arse in the air.”

Sherlock hesitated, but the slap on his arse forced him to move. Lowering his head, he realised how vulnerable his position was. He gripped his right wrist with his left hand and took a deep breath.

“Are you deliberately being fucking obtuse?” John spat.

Well, yes he was, but there was no way he would admit to intentionally provoking John. The sub reversed his grip and suppressed a grin as his Dom strode into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

Ah, ginger, came the swift deduction. As that thought actually hit home Sherlock knelt up and immediately backed himself into the nearest chair.

John laughed as he walked back into the living room, seeing where Sherlock huddled. He carefully carved the root into the shape of an anal plug.

Sherlock shook his head frantically and, before he realised what he had done, he'd reached behind his head and unbuckled the gag. “Please, John, sir. I didn't mean it!”

The Dom froze, then very quietly said, “What. The. Fuck?” He took two steps closer to his sub and grabbed him by the curls. “I want to hear just one of two words from you right now: green or your safe word.”

“Yellow, sir,” Sherlock tried. John frowned down at him and the sub risked, “What exactly are you punishing me for?”

Frowning at his mad genius, the Dom shook his head. He crouched down in front of him. “This all started out as a game, love, but you were deliberately provoking me. Don't deny it.”

“Once, I provoked you once! That doesn't deserve ginger!” Sherlock snapped and then he spotted the features of his doctor angering by the second and realised what tone he had just taken.

“I asked for one word. How many have you given me?” John asked.

Sherlock swallowed and looked down, replaying the last few moments in his Mind Palace and making a quick count. “18, sir,” he said and sighed resignedly. It wasn't the ginger Sherlock hated, it was the fact the Dom kept playing with him whilst it burnt inside, but he knew he couldn't escape it. He placed the gag on the floor in front of him, bowed his head and held his wrist behind his back- the correct way, not the provocative way.

John nodded, satisfied, and grabbed the water-based lube. He used it to slick up the carved ginger root and seated it in Sherlock's hole. After washing his hands, he ordered his sub to sit up and buckled the ring gag back into place.

Sherlock whimpered pitifully when John stepped back. His head still low, he watched as his cock began to harden despite the uncomfortable burning sensation that nestled just touching his prostate. He doubted it would be that simple. It wasn't. John buckled a collar around his neck. Two cuffs hung from the collar by a pair of six inch chains. They were quickly fastened around his wrists.

The detective sniffed and watched the doctor's feet as he moved about. He was caught off guard as a leash was clipped to his collar and he was tugged violently upright, the ginger burning greater. John led him to the sofa, where he was forced to kneel on it, facing the back. He felt the cushion dip beneath him as his Dom stepped onto the sofa and hooked the end of his leash over a hook. The position of the hook and his collar forced him to look down; his eyes conveniently blindfolded by the cushion and only enough space for him to breath comfortably.

John grabbed the small silicone paddle. It was riddled with holes and covered with small ridges and protrusions. He wriggled the fingers of his right hand through the ring gag into the damp heat of Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock initially gagged at the sudden fingers pushed through the gag, but managed to calm himself down enough to suck properly, completely unaware of the paddle hovering behind him.

Sherlock inhaled sharply at the first stinging impact. It had bloody well hurt and the burn of the shifting ginger made his eyes sting with tears. He couldn't get his body to relax into the pain, not yet. John didn't say anything as the paddle landed one, two, three more times. Tears streamed down his face. Yes, he'd provoked him by not listening, but this had to be about something else as well. There were usually comforting words, or the tally count; there was nothing but the swish of the paddle.

“You've probably deduced...” The paddle slapped against Sherlock's arse. “That I'm not entirely...” Slap. “Happy with you right now.”

Sherlock decided he needed to comply as much as possible. Whatever he'd done, he needed to make up for it, so he nodded even though it caused discomfort. If he could have apologised, he would have done.

“You're my slut. Mine,” he growled as he applied another smack to his sub's pinkening arse.

Sherlock cringed, not from the blow, but from sudden realisation. This was about him flirting with the witness, an activity he had been strictly forbidden.

But John had said this started off as play. Oh! He'd already deduced the fact John had wanted to push his limits. Thinking back on past experience, pressing his limits was almost an alternative to punishment. All he'd done was prod the lion. How to let John know that he understood, that he was sorry for his behaviour? Sherlock had been taking the paddling passively, stoically weathering each blow. Now, he pressed back with his arse to meet the stinging paddle, striving to show his eagerness to be corrected by his Dom.

John froze when he realised Sherlock had stopped crying out. He was sniffing, yes, crying, almost definitely, but the last few strikes had just been met with silence. His arse was even further out than it had been at the start. Was he enjoying this? Inviting it? One look at his cock told him, no, he wasn't enjoying this. It had gone completely flaccid, even the burn of the ginger wasn't enough to get him hard and keep him that way. What was it then? He set the paddle aside and unbuckled the ring gag. As soon as Sherlock was able, he panted out, “Sorry, sir. Sorry. I forgot. I shouldn't have, I know. It's a simple rule. I'm sorry I forgot. You should... You should...” His words broke off in a broken sob.

“I should what, pet?”

“Be angry, sir. I- I know I was in the wrong… b-but it's so easy to get caught up in the case. You know how I get… And, and… I'm sorry, sir, I'm really, really sorry. I didn't meant to ruin everything.”

True contrition from Sherlock was rare, but this... John wrapped his arms around the trembling detective and made soothing sounds. “Hush, Pet. Hush. Yes. I was angry, I can't stand seeing you flirt with someone else, but you haven't ruined everything.” He kissed his nape. “This, us, can't be ruined by something like that.”

“Was angry? Am I forgiven, sir?”

John didn't respond, just bent him back over the chair. Sherlock prepared himself for the paddle once more, but all that happened was John eased a finger into his burning hole and removed the ginger root. He left his wrists in the cuffs, though, and held him tight again. “I love you, you gorgeous mad thing. I can't stay angry with you.” He placed a kiss on Sherlock's temple. “Maybe we should start again,” he suggested. “Do something you would like?”

Sherlock nodded slowly, still slightly unsure.

“Go on, pet. Name something and I will oblige.”

“Could we have a bath? Please, sir?”

John knew what that meant. Whenever the ginger root was used, Sherlock knew his Dom was mad. A bath not only helped where his hole was sore, but it gave him a chance to pamper the doctor. The Dom unclipped the leash from Sherlock's collar and helped him sit back on his heels. John wiped away his sub's tears and drew him in for a kiss. Sherlock's fists clenched where they were tied and John went to unbuckle them too, but the detective shook his head. “Please, sir, can I keep them?”

John smiled. “At least let me make the chains a little longer?”

Sherlock gave a brief nod of acquiescence. The Dom fetched two longer lengths of chain, replacing the ones connecting his sub's wrists to his collar. They were more decorative than anything, as Sherlock now had his full range of motion. As Sherlock rubbed the cuffs to the side of his face John realised that it wasn't decoration, it was comfort. The doctor wrapped his arm around his detective. He hated punishing him, but they both knew it needed to be done. Even as quick as it had been.

“Alright, pet. Come on.” John guided him towards the bathroom with a grip on one of the chains. He could see Sherlock's mood lifting already and, from the look on his sub's face, he was falling into his 'service' headspace. When they reached the bathroom, Sherlock dropped to his knees immediately. John paused behind him and rested his hand in his pet's hair.

Sherlock turned around, looked up through his lashes and tentatively raised his hands towards John. He wanted to touch him, wrap his chained arms around him and press his chest against his thighs, but he hesitated, still unsure if he was fully forgiven. It was unlike John to forgive and forget quite so quickly when it came to things like flirting. To anybody else flirting was a casual thing, but John knew different. Flirting could lead to anything where Sherlock was concerned because he did it on cases and didn't think through the consequences, whether that be just annoying his lover or finding himself in a dangerous position.

“I want, no, need two things from you, pet,” John said, tilting Sherlock's face up so he could look him in the eyes. “Prove to me that you are mine. Take care of me and be my pretty little slut.” His grip tightened on his pet's chin. “Then, when we are done, use that big brain of yours and figure out what reminder you need to help you follow the rules, something that will work beyond the confines of Baker Street.”

“And then I'll be forgiven?”

“I can never stay mad at you, Sherlock. I don't know how else I can prove it to you.”

Sherlock realised he'd killed the mood. Again. Throwing all caution to the wind, he wrapped his chained hands as far around the doctor's legs as he could get them. He nuzzled at the doctor's cock and it started filling out again. That was better. He gave it a little kitten lick and John went so far as to laugh.

“What about the bath?” the Dom asked.

Sherlock sighed, “Sorry, sir.” He knelt back on his heels and twisted to the tub. He dropped the plug into the hole and turned the taps on with practiced accuracy. He turned to face John, who was still dressed, Sherlock had been unbuttoning his shirt when the scene has gone awry, his trousers were already undone, too allowing his cock to spring free. He helped the doctor remove the rest of his clothing. He shuffled back out of the way when the bath was full. John used the detective's head of curls to balance on as he stepped in. Grabbing a flannel, Sherlock climbed in, kneeling awkwardly between his Dom's legs. The tub was more than large enough for one, but one just a bit larger wouldn't be amiss. He quickly jotted down a note in his Mind Palace to arrange for one then turned his attentions to John. John watched him curiously as he lathered up the flannel and immediately started on his feet, in and out of his toes and then the bottom. Sherlock couldn't help but crack a smile when the Dom jerked as the detective found the ticklish point.

“Oi! Pet, watch it,” John complained good naturedly. He kicked his foot, splashing his sub playfully. Chains clinked as Sherlock reacted, grabbing John's foot and bending low to kiss it tenderly. The Dom was caught completely by surprise when Sherlock's other hand moved out silently underwater and tickled the sole of his other foot. He made an indignant sound and jerked his offended foot back which caused him to slide down in the tub, the shallow water now coming up to his neck. Sherlock looked over his shoulder, biting his lip to keep from laughing. Suddenly John lurched, pulling his sub under too. Sherlock spluttered for a moment before he found himself and then managed to manoeuvre on top of the older man, successfully pinning him beneath him.

John, ever the soldier, distracted Sherlock by stretching up for a kiss. Just as his pet relaxed into it, the doctor pinched Sherlock hard on the hip. The detective yelped and tried to jerk away, but that slight bit of movement allowed John to snake one arm around him and dig his hand into his curls. The Dom wrapped a leg over Sherlock's legs at the same time and, with his other hand, he grasped one very hard consulting cock. Sherlock grunted, his arms giving way beneath him at the sensation on his solid length, and he landed directly on top of his army doctor.

John sputtered as he sank beneath the water, but he came up laughing. He hadn't let go of Sherlock's cock, not even for a moment. He gave it a little squeeze. “I thought you were supposed to be bathing me, not drowning me, you git.”

“I thought you told me to think of something to remember to obey the rules? Well this is it, Sir. I don't need to upset you and provoke you to get your attention. Despite the fact you couldn't have hold of my cock any tighter, we're enjoying ourselves for once. I'm not ruining it, I think that is incentive enough, sir.”

John felt his face grow warm. That was possibly the nicest thing Sherlock had ever said to him, well, 'I love you' notwithstanding. “Hmm, love. That's just...” He smashed their lips together hard, wanting to devour the man leaning over him.

As Sherlock pulled himself upright again, he saw tears running down the Dom's cheeks. “Sir?” He panicked. “Did I do something wrong?”

John knew there was no point lying; trying to deny the tears and claim it was water, his pet would see right through it. “No, you silly boy.” He sat up and grabbed him around the neck, squeezing him as if he was about to leave forever.

Sherlock tensed at first, then nearly every one of his muscles relaxed as he went pliant. He barely kept himself from collapsing on John by locking his elbows in place. “John...” His voice was still questioning and quavered just a bit.

“You're not in trouble, you berk. You haven't done anything wrong.”

Sherlock still couldn't relax his elbows. John was sat up enough to support his weight and probably his subs too, but there was some emotion in John's voice that Sherlock didn't know how to react to. It was always anger, because he was always a brat, never tears. His face got that blank look, the one he wore when he was confused by emotions. He had thought that he had learned how to read John, that he understood him. A wrinkle appeared between his eyes as he crinkled his nose, thinking... there was always something.

It took a moment, because John was overcome with emotion himself, for him to sense his pet's distress, but as soon as he had, he pulled back. “Pet?”

“I haven't done anything wrong,” Sherlock said, his voice oddly flat.

Fuck, John thought. The detective had just repeated what he had said. His sub was obviously tittering on the edge, confused and ready to fall. The Dom had to make sure he fell in the correct direction, towards happiness and subspace, not panic and the emotional tangle that entailed. “You're perfect, pet.”

“I don't- I ruined it again.” He braced himself against the side of the bath and hopped over the edge, sitting with his back to the side. “I don't do anything wrong and you still cry…”

Stupid, angsty, wonderful git, John thought, but didn't voice it. He climbed out, dripping, and knelt by his shame-faced sub. Taking Sherlock's chin gently in his hand, he turned him to look in his eyes and asked, “Have you never heard of happy tears?”

“No.” His face hadn't changed from his mask and John feared he was losing him to his Mind Palace. “It's not possible. You can't be happy and sad at the same time. It's like being calm and angry at once…” and then Sherlock realised something, John had been calm but angry when this started mere hours ago. His calm persona had diverted Sherlock away from what he'd done wrong. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he accepted that John, at least, could feel two things at once. So, maybe he was both happy and sad. Sherlock understood how he had saddened his Dom and he was determined to make up for it, but how had he made him happy? “Sir, I don't understand, not completely. Could you provide more data?”

John chuckled and sat next to him. The room was steamy and therefore-for the moment at least-they were warm. He rocked into the younger man playfully. “Always so scientific, babe. What data do you require?”

“I understand how I upset you, sir. It takes me a while sometimes, but I work it out eventually. But how did I make you happy?”

“By being a sentimental git.” John grinned.

Sherlock looked thoroughly insulted. “I am not,” he pouted.

“Oh, babe. You have no idea.” The doctor placed a kiss on his sub's cheek. “What you said before, about this with me being enough to help you remember to obey the rules... That was pretty spectacular and so full of sticky sweet sentiment that I might very well develop diabetes from it.” If anything, Sherlock looked more insulted, but John could see a flush of pleasure creeping up his neck.

“I've said it before…” he pointed out.

“You never meant it before.”

“How did you-”

“Because I know you better than you know you.”

“Yes, but how. How, John?”

“The way you said it, pet. The circumstances it was in makes it so much more believable. It wasn't during punishment. It wasn't halfway through corner time or halfway through the cane or the crop- it was you on your own, coming to your own conclusions.” There was no trace of doubt in John's voice, only firm conviction.

“Oh,” was the detective's reply. A few moments passed, then a slow broad smile crept onto his face. It was the smile that made his eyes twinkle and shift colour from grey to blue. “I got it right, then.” He sounded proud of himself.

“Yes. You got it right, love.” John cupped his sub's face in his hands and leaned forward to kiss him properly.

Sherlock allowed the Dom to finish and then pulled away. He knelt up straight and proud, sliding his hands into position behind his back. “Would you care to get into the bath, sir? I believe I was supposed to be bathing you.”

It was so hard not to laugh at his proud sub, but John wouldn't risk bruising that ridiculously proud and fragile ego for anything. Instead, he kissed him again, deeply, then pulled back. “We could do that, yes, or we could just go straight to the fucking.” He ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair. “I could fuck you or...” He grinned. “You could fuck me. Your choice.”

“I… er… I've never, um… fucked you before, Sir.”

Quite correct.”

“I still feel a little sore, sir.”

John's eyes widened a fraction in realisation. “Of course.”

“I could fuck you whilst in the bath…”

The doctor bit his lip and debated with himself. He and a previous girlfriend had thought the notion of sex in a hot tub was appealing. What it had been was chafing. Still, Sherlock was being romantic, in his own strange way, and he hated to say no. Perhaps with enough lube, oil based lube, things might go more smoothly. “Alright, but I get to be on top.”

“Top, sir? I think it's about time I was the top, don't you?”

“Don't get ahead of yourself, pet.” He used the appellation on purpose and Sherlock froze for a moment. He squinted at his Dom and then lunged for him. There was one hell of struggle and, before John was aware of what happened, the younger man had overpowered him and had him on his belly whilst he sat on top of him, pinning both his arms to the small of his back. “When we wake up in the morning, we'll pretend this never happened. Pet.”

John's head spun, thoughts and feelings whirling through him madly. He had a decision to make: regain control of the situation or indulge his pet. His cock throbbed, even pinned between his belly and the floor. Decision made, then. “Baskerville,” he said. “It's my safe word, in case you were wondering.”

“Excuse me?”

“Baskerville. Sir.” The word rolled from the part time sub's mouth and made Sherlock shiver.

“On your knees,” the detective ordered as soon as he was on his feet again.

There's was a slight hesitance, but the doctor knelt. Back straight, arms down his sides unsure what to do with them, how did Sherlock know what to do with them?

The detective held out his hands in front of him and rattled the cuffs in John's face. “Undo them.” The doctor unbuckled the cuffs with shaking hands. They weren't shaking from fear, but excitement. Sherlock bent forward from the waist, bringing his neck to John's eye level. His intent was clear, so John removed the collar as well. As the detective straightened, John once again faced the dilemma of what to do with his hands. Sherlock grinned, reached out and lifted John's arms, guiding his hands to the back of his neck.

John shivered in anticipation. “How do you know?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Sir.”

“It's knowing what mood you're in. If you're upset with me, I'll be more straight, more… distinguished than when we play. Same goes for the position of my hands.”

John thought he could do that, read Sherlock. He was the detective's interpreter at the Yard, after all. Right now, Sherlock was being rather playful. What would the younger man do in his position? John shuffled forward, looking up to see if Sherlock approved, and licked at his lover's cock.

The detective chuckled and ran his hand into the wet short spikes of the doctor's hair. “I can see why you make me do this all the time, but first.”

He disappeared and, when he came back, told John to close his eyes. With hesitance, he obeyed and Sherlock forced the ring gag into his mouth, buckling it up behind him.

Okay, that was a bit uncomfortable. John hoped the gag wouldn't be left in too long. His thoughts were still a bit scattered and he started to panic. How could he use his safe word?

“Open your eyes, John.”

John complied and his look of fear resonated in the detective.

“When I'm being punished, I don't have a safe word. I know we discussed this, but this is how it feels. I wanted you to know that, so you know I really hate it and only do it to spend time with you. When we play however, and you gag me, how do I communicate?”

John clicked his fingers and Sherlock leant forward to remove the gag again. His shoulders slumped, as he realised just how he had made the detective feel. The doctor wasn't sure how much more he could take of this emotional roller coaster. He'd been, angry, aroused, touched and now he felt guilty and sad.

Sherlock pulled John against him. “Don't be stupid, John. I could have stopped you at any time, changed the arrangement. I didn't want to.” He held him tighter. “No moral crisis required. I just needed to show you how much I trust you. Maybe I went the wrong way about it.”

John chuckled nervously. “Maybe you did. Maybe you didn't.”

“Now, get in the bath,” the detective ordered.

“Babe, wait-”

Sherlock's eyebrow rose questioningly and he reached out, running his fingers through John's hair. He wished it was longer so he could tug on it properly and use it as a handle to guide his doctor to the tub. Instead, he grabbed John by the ear and used that. “In with you, pet. Don't make me get the ball gag. You would really hate that.”

John didn't quite know what was going on, but he thought it best to go along with his temporary Dom, placing the idea of using the detective's ear in the future into his own 'Mind Palace' as it bloody hurt. Sherlock had explained his reasons for being provocative, but did he know what it was like the other side? Did he know how upsetting and disappointing it could be? John only sat on the edge of the tub willing him to find out.

Sherlock had to bodily pick John up and set him back in the tub. His sometimes pet was being difficult. How would he like a bit of ginger up his arse? When John just sat there in the water without kneeling up, the detective decided: ginger it would be.

The doctor realised his mistake when he heard the fridge open. They were playing a game here, but not just any game, each other's.

John tensed when his flatmate appeared at the door, chucking the ginger from hand to hand.

“Are you looking forward to this, pet?” Sherlock asked. “You did, after all, use this when I provoked you deliberately.”

“I-”

“No, pet!”

Oh, bloody buggering fuck, John thought. It looked like the game was going all the way. He knew the ginger would burn, but Sherlock could take it and did, far too regularly. He wasn't about to let the detective show him up. If he did, Sherlock would swan around the flat and gloat for days. Not only that, but ginger would become useless as a punishment. It would be a badge of pride for the git. “Sorry, sir. You know what's best.”

Sherlock paused for a moment, manipulating John used to be a regular pass time of his, but the older they were both getting, the more John could see when he was being played. He had to follow through. “Kneel up then, slut.”

John's eyes flickered to the detective and Sherlock couldn't hide his smile.

John didn’t know if it was the smile, the prospect of the ginger or being called slut, but something flipped in his stomach and he felt light, almost giddy. He kneeled and Sherlock pressed him forward, his face stopping just short of the cooling water. There was the snick of a cap, then the slick of lube at his hole. Before John was ready, the detective slid the ginger into place. Okay, that wasn't so bad. Sherlock placed a hand under the doctor's shoulder and lifted, pulling him back to a sitting position. The ginger shifted inside him and began to burn. Oh, fuck.

Sherlock pulled the plug out and let the water drain before topping it up with warm water. He then proceeded to clamber back into the tub and bathe his doctor.

At the look on his face, completely failing to grasp why Sherlock was acting like there wasn't ginger up his arse, the detective clarified, “I was under the impression I was going to bath you?”

“Well yes, sir, but-”

Sherlock smacked John's thigh. “Hush, boy. I'll have no 'buts'. I'm the one in control. If I want to bathe you, I will.” He ran a flannel down John's torso, dodged his cock and swept it over his bollocks. The doctor let his head drop back and hit the edge of the tub as his body began to get its wires crossed, mixing pleasure and pain. Was this what it was like for Sherlock?

Was this what it was like for John? “Captain, why do you dominate me, day to day?”

John paused for a moment, Sherlock was fluttering about all over the place. He did it at the best of times, but this was unreal. “You asked me to. It was something we both decided you needed.”

“I know, but do you enjoy it?”

Did he enjoy it? That was a question he had never thought to ask himself. “I enjoy taking you apart with pleasure,” John began cautiously. “I definitely like fucking you senseless and, God, that mouth of yours. I can never get enough of it. But...” The doctor's face screwed up in thought. “I don't exactly like punishing you. Sometimes, I'm afraid I'll go too far, cross some line into abuse...” He trailed off. What if he already had?

“When this started, I had a safe word when it came to punishments. Now I don't. Why do you think that is?”

John's heart dropped and he tried to climb out of the tub. He couldn't look at Sherlock. He'd never be able to look at him again. The detective sat on him, straddling his hips and pressing him back by the shoulders.

“No, John. No.” He may have been unable to read John earlier, but he was an open book to him now. “Because I wanted it that way!” He gave the doctor a little shake. “You really are an idiot. If I had changed my mind, I would have told you and we would have changed it. Now, can we let the angst go and play?”

“One more question.”

Sherlock nodded. “Go ahead, babe.”

“Why don't you want a safe word when I punish you?”

Sherlock thought for a moment. “Because when you punish me, I deserve it. I may not believe so before or at the time, but by the end, you've usually lectured me enough and it's usually because I've put one of us in danger or done something that will consequently lead to danger, like flirting with the witness.” He smiled slightly. “A safe word would give me a way out. I don't need a way out.”

“But if that changes...”

“I'll tell you.”

“And if I ever go too far?”

“You won't.”

“But if...”

Sherlock let out a long sigh. “I'll either stop you, or I'll tell you after the fact, you'll take care of me and it will never happen again. Satisfied?”

“I suppose.” John didn’t sound quite convinced.

The detective rolled his eyes. “Up. On the side of the tub,” he ordered.

The doctor climbed up and sat on the tub's edge. Before he realised what was about to happen, Sherlock had swooped down and taken John's cock in his mouth and began sucking. At the same time his hand reached around, he fiddled for a bit and found the ginger that had no doubt been nudged at his quick transfer to the edge of the bath. He pulled it out as quickly as he could and then dropped it, all the while swiping his tongue around the doctor's cock. He placed his hands behind his back, fully intent on handing control back over.

John was about as confused as he got. The distraction going on down below wasn't helping his thought processes. He pulled Sherlock off by the curls. “What are you doing?”

“Sucking you off, sir,” the detective replied cheekily.

Right. He was back in control. He still liked the idea of letting Sherlock fuck him. Christ! After all of this, his pet certainly deserved a reward. “No, you're not. Bed,” he ordered, pointing towards the door.

“But, sir-”

“Hush, boy. I'll have no 'buts'. I'm the one in control. Bed. Now!”

Sherlock managed to get one quick lick in before he backed off again, smirking as his own words were said back at him. “Yes, sir.”

***

The detective was knelt in the middle of the bed, facing the foot. John paused in the doorway to simply admire him. He was more amazed than ever that he got to Dom such an amazing man. He walked over to the bedside table and fetched the lube. Climbing onto the bed, he took Sherlock's hand and placed the bottle in it. Sherlock just remained in perfect position and stared down blankly at the bottle of lube.

“I still want you to fuck me, Sherlock, but you can do all the work.” His sub looked as lost as he had that day at Irene Adler's. “Don't panic on me. You know what to do.” John lay down on the bed, arse in the air, and waited. He was just about to speak again when he heard the snick of the lube being opened.

“But, John, sir. You'll be sore. Ginger is not a nice thing to have up there in the first place, let alone then be fucked too.”

“Oh, Sherlock, you think you're getting away with the flirting?”

Sherlock would have worried, but his tone and his expression as he looked back over his shoulder spoke volumes.

“I don't understand, sir.”

“Of course you don't. Your reward is getting to fuck me. Your punishment is the ginger will be on your cock, before, during and after orgasm, making you that little bit more sensitive.”

“Sir, that's evil,” he said, but he grinned. “Also genius.” He bit his lip. Would it really work that way or would the lube dilute the effect? There was only one way to find out, an experiment. He placed one hand at the base of John's back and let his lubed fingers stroke along John's perineum and up over his hole.

Without introduction or warning, he forced one finger in.

“You know, boy. I should make you do this more often.” He moaned as Sherlock twirled his finger, pressing at his walls. “And if you don't deserve a reward in the future, you can fuck me with that vibrator you hate.”

“Yes, sir.”

John was back in control and, for once, the detective wasn't in trouble. They'd enjoyed the bath, or the lack of bathing, and now, this. He said it earlier, but it had only just sunk in. This really was incentive enough.


End file.
